


Shot Right Through With A Bolt Of Blue

by thesleepingsatellite



Category: Top Gun (1986)
Genre: Bondage, Dom/sub, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Canon, Yuleporn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 13:03:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5457434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesleepingsatellite/pseuds/thesleepingsatellite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kazansky showed up shortly after Charlie left, when the sting of it was still raw.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shot Right Through With A Bolt Of Blue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Saffronra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saffronra/gifts).



> Thank you, Saffronra, for giving me the opportunity to revisit one of my favorite films from the 80s, and one of my first fandom loves, pilots. Title taken from New Order's "Bizarre Love Triangle", released in 1986, the same year as the film.

Kazansky showed up a three weeks after Charlie left, when the sting of it was still raw.

Pete looked up from the student pilot evaluation he'd been staring at for the past twenty minutes at the sound of a throat being cleared. He expected to see Viper or Jester, or maybe one of the civilian contractors, peering in at him with undisguised pity. Instead, it was Kazansky, leaning against the doorjamb with a smirk on his face. His mirrored sunglasses reflected the California sunlight that streamed into the room through the open window. Pete thought if he looked hard enough, he could see the small, wan circle of his own face.

"Kazansky," Pete said, shuffling the papers he'd been working on into what he hoped was a neat pile. He cringed. His office was a fucking mess, had been since he'd started using the space, but during the past couple of weeks he'd given up all pretense of cleanliness and organization and let the room deteriorate to reflect his downward trajectory. Stacks of student files were everywhere, small bits of flight suit gear cluttered the space, and empty take out boxes were strewn across the floor. Pete couldn't tell any more, but he thought it smelled in here, which was why he'd opened the window.

Pete attempted a wan imitation of his trademark toothy grin. "I didn't know you'd be in town."

Kazansky shrugged, his shoulder moving in a study of feigned nonchalance. "Viper asked me to meet with him. I think he's going to ask me to teach again. We're going for dinner tonight at the wharf."

"Well, you know," Pete said. "We'd love to have you here. Hell, I'd love to have anybody from our class teaching with me."

Kazansky took his sunglasses off, and fixed Pete with a stare. "Even if it's me?"

Pete tilted his head to the side and rose from behind his desk to lean against it, an arm's length away from Kazansky. "Especially if it's you. You can be my wingman anytime, remember?"

"Of course I remember, Pete," Kazansky said. His gaze was direct and frank as he reached out to clap one large hand against Pete's shoulder. "You still go to the Mississippi Room sometimes?"

Pete stiffened and felt his eyes slide to the side, away from Kazansky's face. "Not so much these days, no." The worn, wooden space of the Mississippi Room held too many memories for him. The last time he'd went there was with Charlie, and instead of serenading her they'd ended up arguing in front of the jukebox. "Been going to the Double Deuce a lot lately. Had some good luck on their pool tables."

"Okay then," Kazansky said, releasing his grip on Pete's shoulder, his hand hovering there before coming to rest on his own hip. "Maybe I'll look for you there after? Around 9?"

"Sure thing, Kazansky," Pete nodded, forcing a grin on his face. "See you later?"

"Count on it," Kazansky said, donning his sunglasses once more when he turned to go.

Pete remained leaning against his desk for a full minute before wiping his suddenly sweaty palms against his uniform trousers and returning to his work.

#

Halfway through his third game of pool at the Double Deuce, Pete was losing badly to some cadet who hadn't known better than to challenge an officer to a game. Or maybe the kid did know what he was doing, knew any easy mark when he saw one - and let's face it, Pete was an easy mark these days - and decided to go in for the kill. That's sure what Pete had done when he was the kid's age. Frustrated with his first two losses, Pete had upped the odds for this game, and had had his ass handed to him in short order when the cadet had pocketed five balls in quick succession.

Pete surveyed the pool table, and leaned to brace himself against it, putting the red ball within his sights. He could pocket it with a bank shot, he was sure. With a quick, sharp movement of his arm, the ball was in the pocket, and he moved on to the next one, a combination angle shot. Lining it up, Pete hoped like hell that the ball wouldn't careen off in the opposite direction. He wasn't playing well, he knew it, and wasn't that just the way every fucking thing he tried to do had gone since Charlie had left him and moved to DC.

He startled when he felt a warm presence right beside him and turned his head to see Kazansky leaning against the pool table. Instead of his uniform, Kazansky wore his civvies - tight blue jeans and a black t-shirt. Pete count the number of times he'd seen Kazansky in casual clothes on one hand, and he couldn't help but stare longer than he should have.

"You want to angle that a little more to the right, Mav," Kazansky said, a grin on his face. "But hey, I know you haven't exactly been shooting straight lately."

"Fuck you, Kazansky", Pete uttered, focusing on the ball in front of him and the motion of the pool cue in his hand as he got ready to take his shot. He startled, and the cue slipped, when Kazansky leaned in close to murmur in his ear, low and quiet, "All right."

Beside them, the cadet huffed an impatient sigh. "Yo, you gonna take the shot or not?"

Pete straightened, ready to tell the kid off when Kazansky beat him to it, fixing the kid with a laser sharp gaze. "The lieutenant and I have business. Now scram."

"Hey man, if you wanna play a round with him, be my guest, but wait your turn."

Kazansky pulled himself to full height, and looked down his nose at the cadet, who swallowed but didn't back down under Kazansky's gaze. "First of all, it isn't 'man'," Kazansky stated, his voice firm. "If you're going to address me, you will kindly call me Sir, or Captain, as in Captain Kazansky. Second, I have confidential business with the Lieutenant, business that isn't for the ears of maggot cadets such as yourself. So scram, before I bust your behind back to basic. Are we clear?"

The cadet visibly blanched. "Yes Sir," he said, with a small salute. "It won't happen again, Sir!"

Kazansky laughed as the kid fled into the crowd and then turned back to Pete to throw an arm over his shoulders. "Why are you letting some idiot kid fleece you like that? You really so hard up to get your ass handed to you?"

"I dunno, Kazansky," Pete said, bringing his beer to his lips. Shook his head as he drank, allowing his eyes to slip closed for one second before turning back to Kazansky. "I guess I haven't been feeling like myself lately."

"Yeah, I heard you haven't been acting like yourself, either." Kazansky turned to stare out into the crowded bar. "I guess Charlie really did a number on you, huh."

"What?" Pete said, screwing his eyes closed and shaking his head. "No. No, no, no. That's not it at all."

"Come on Mav," Kazansky said, turning toward Pete. "I heard what happened. I talked to Viper, and he's real worried about you."

A wry smile twisted Pete's lips. "So what, Kazansky? He asked you to check in on me? Worried I'm going to go off the deep end like I did with Goose?"

"Nah, man," Kazansky said, his mouth curling in a grin. "That's not it at all. I really did have to come in to talk to Viper, but while I was here I figured I would see there was something here worth pursuing. You know, now that you're flying solo and all."

Pete snapped his head toward Kazansky, taking in the sly half-grin and how his eyes flicked down to Pete's lips and thought, maybe. Maybe.

#

There had been a moment, back when they were both students at Top Gun, that Pete had thought maybe, just maybe, getting naked and sweaty with Kazansky would be a great fucking idea. It came a few weeks after Pete had met Charlie in the bar, and he and Charlie were progressing past flirtation and into the realm of full-scale romance. Charlie had been everything he loved in the opposite sex - tall, blonde, intelligent and challenging, and best of all she didn't let Pete get away with his bullshit like pretty much everyone else around him did.

Thing was, Pete found the same qualities just as attractive in men as he did in women, which was a real problem when he had to work with people like Kazansky on a daily basis. That he was bisexual wasn't something he advertised - he was in the fucking military, for christ's sake. Serving in close quarters, he'd long ago learned the value of keeping any liaisons with other men well under wraps. Now and then, though, he ran into another guy like him flying under the radar. He hadn't expected arrogant, by-the-books Kazansky to be one of them.

It had been late in the evening when Pete had come in from a run one night, early in training. The rest of the guys had fucked off to the local bar, but Pete was still trying to distract himself after a date with Charlie had ended with her going home early to work and him with some tension he needed to work off if he wanted to get any sleep that night.

He walked into the locker room, and stripped the sweat-dampened t-shirt over his head before entering the shower room, and then realized he wasn't alone as he had thought. The sound of the water streaming out of a showerhead and falling onto the ground did nothing to hide a low, choked off groan that echoed off the walls.

Pete rounded a corner, and there was Kazansky, gloriously nude, in one of the shower stalls, curtain open, one hand braced against the wall and the other around his dick. Kazansky was the last person he'd expected to walk in on jerking off in the communal shower. The cognitive dissonance of it, combined with the sight of Kazansky rock-hard and dripping wet, made him drop his jaw and stare.

As he watched, Kazansky tipped his head back and let out a moan. Pete gasped and stumbled backward, his foot making a clattering noise when it hit a bucket behind him. Kazansky's head snapped toward him to zero in on him with his laser sharp gaze, the blue of his eyes incandescently hot instead of the ice-cold they normally were.

"Maverick," he drawled, his hand continuing to move on his own dick as his eyes traversed the length of Pete's body. Pete was still wearing his running shorts, and yet, under Kazansky's scrutiny, he felt even more naked than Kazansky was in this hot, enclosed space.

"Ice... man," Pete replied, at a loss for something to do with his hands.

Kazansky turned away from the wall to face him before looking down at himself. "I know," he said, looking back up at Pete with a grin. "Impressive, isn't it?"

Pete had to admit to himself that Kazansky's dick was an impressive length and thickness, the kind of dick that would feel good in his hands. There's no way he'd let that cocky son-of-a-bitch know that Pete thought he was smoking hot, though. "I dunno if impressive is the word I'd use," he said, training his eyes on Kazansky's face.

"You got something better under those shorts, Mav?" Kazansky said with a gesture to where Pete's dick, the traitorous thing that it was, was coming to attention underneath his shorts. Pete struggled to keep his eyes on Kazansky's face, rather than letting them stray to where his hand still moved on his cock. Kazansky raised an eyebrow and pushed off the tiles of the shower stall to advance toward Pete until he was well within grabbing distance. "You gonna come in here show me what kind of heat you're packing?"

"You know," Pete said, feeling brazen. "Under normal circumstances, I'd love to come in there and fuck you raw."

"What makes you think you'd be the one on top?" Kazansky asked, leaning in closer.

Pete closed his eyes and bit his lip. Kazansky had him there. "But," he continued, steeling himself and opening his eyes. "I kinda got this thing going with someone and I don't want to fuck it up."

"Suit yourself," Kazansky said with a shrug, moving back so that the spray of the shower hit his shoulders. "Don't say I never tried to do anything nice for you."

Pete snorted, and turned to make his way back to the locker room, trying to ignore the sounds of Kazansky's theatrically exaggerated moans as they echoed off the shower room walls.

He pulled his clothes back over his sweaty body and walked out to where his motorcycle was parked. He showered at home that night, and it wasn't Charlie's soft, creamy breasts he was thinking of as his come splattered against the tiles.

#

Pete had arrived at the Double Deuce on his motorcycle, so Kazansky followed him back to his place. Pete arrived ahead of him, threw his keys on the coffee table, and then turned to admit Kazansky when he knocked.

"Nice place," Kazansky said, looking around his shithole of a bungalow, his eyebrow raised. Pete winced. Though the bones of it were decent, his house wasn't in any better condition than his office.

"It's alright, I guess," Pete said, rubbing his suddenly sweaty palms against his jeans. He pushed his way past a haphazard pile of motorcycle gear and walked toward the kitchen. "You want a beer?"

"Sure," Kazansky replied, coming to lean against the doorway.

Pete felt Kazansky's eyes on him as he got two beers out of the fridge, turning to offer one to Kazansky.

"Thanks man," Kazansky said before raising the bottle to his mouth. He wrapped his lips around it, tipping his head back and closing his eyes as he drank. He looked so good that Pete wanted to walk right up to him and run his tongue up Kazansky's throat.

Pete was fucked. He knew it, and judging by the predatory look Kazansky threw his way when he returned his attention Pete, Kazansky knew it, too. Pete had wondered how Kazansky had known he went both ways since the night in the shower room. Considering that Kazansky was offering what seemed to be no-strings attached sex and the chance to get out of his head for a while, he wasn't going to question it.

Kazansky pushed off the way to move closer to Pete. "Are you going to show me around this place?"

Pete grinned and allowed his head to dip forward as he nodded, willing to play into this pretense. "Sure," he said. "Well, you've seen the living room. This here's the kitchen, and down the hall there," he gestured toward the darkened corridor. "Down the hall's the bedroom."

"Well," Kazansky replied, his voice low. "Why don't we go check it out?"

Kazansky brushed past Pete and sauntered down the hall. Pushing open the door to the bedroom, he looked back over his shoulder at Pete and smiled. "Coming?"

Pete took a gulp of his beer. "Yeah, Kazansky" he replied, covering the distance to the bedroom in record time. "Yeah."

"You know, Pete," Kazansky said, running his finger along the dust that had accumulated on top of the dresser. "Considering we're about to get mighty familiar here, I was thinking you could just call me Tom."

"Yeah, okay, Tom," Pete said, his mouth feeling strange as he formed it around the sound. "Just how familiar here are you wanting to get?"

Kazansky turned to him, a smirk curling those cruel lips. "Familiar enough that you'll be screaming my name before the end of the night."

With sudden speed, Kazansky advanced toward Pete. He grasped Pete's belt loops to pull Pete's body flush against his own, and pressed a kiss to Pete's lips. Startled, Pete gasped, his mouth opening underneath Kazansky 's, who took the opportunity to slide his tongue inside, hot and wet. Pete felt Kazansky 's hand move to the back of his head to angle the kiss to his liking, and he groaned when the hand stayed there, keeping him in place as Kazansky kissed him deeply.

It had been a long time since Pete had kissed another man; longer still since he had had sex with one, and he had forgotten how good it felt to have someone taller than him angle his head upward and use their strength against him. He moaned and rubbed up against Kazansky, pushing his burgeoning erection into Kazansky's hips.

"Knew you'd be like that," Kazansky said, against Pete's lips, his voice low and breathless. "Knew you'd be a needy little slut."

Pete wanted to ask how, how did he know, but didn't get a chance when Kazansky claimed Pete's lips again in a brutal, hard kiss. As much as Pete wanted to object to being called a slut, he could only confirm Kazansky's suppositions about him by whimpering when Kazansky's hands ran over his body as they kissed.

When Kazansky let up the assault on his swollen lips to mouth a path along his jawline, Pete asked "You thought about this?"

"Since that night in the shower room," Kazansky said with a growl into Pete's ear. He pushed Pete away a few feet. "Shirt off. On the bed, now." he said, maneuvering Pete toward the unmade bed.

Pete scrambled to obey, pulling his shirt over his head and clambering gracelessly onto his bed to sprawl against the pillows. He reclined and watched as Kazansky pulled his shirt off, exposing his chiseled physique. Kazansky directed a wolfish grin at him and pushed his jeans and boxers off his hips to reveal his hard cock, which was just as large as Pete remembered.

Kazansky moved onto the bed in a fluid motion and covered Pete's body with his own. He leaned down and kissed Pete in a gentle press of lips, and Pete's heart leapt in his chest, surprised by the tenderness of it. Pete grasped the back of Kazansky's head and drew him in, wanting more, wanting it harder; needing to feel controlled and claimed. He opened his lips under Kazansky's and sighed when Kazansky's tongue moved to slide against his own. Pete felt fingers removing his own from Kazansky's skull, and then grinned when Kazansky pinned his hands on either side of his own head.

Kazansky broke the kiss propped himself up above Pete, his hands pressing Pete's into the pillow with a firm grip. "I have an idea," he said, moving his gaze from Pete's hands to meet his eyes. "You got any restraints?"

Pete looked up at him, considering the situation. Kazansky had already pegged him has a needy bastard who got off on being told what to do, what could it hurt if Kazansky learned that he loved being tied up? He nodded. "In the drawer, to the right."

"Don't move," Kazansky said, releasing his hands. He pointed at Pete with one finger, like a disapproving teacher. "I'm serious, Mav."

Pete nodded and darted his tongue out to wet his lips, unable to tear his eyes away from Kazansky hovering above him. Kazansky seemed satisfied with whatever he saw reflected in Pete's eyes and leaned to the side to yank open the drawer and dig through its contents. He retrieved a bottle a lube and set it on the night table with a small thud before turning to Pete with a toothy grin. "That'll come in handy," he said, before returning to the drawer. "Ah," he said, brandishing the pair of leather cuffs he'd found. "You have good taste, Mav. These are good and sturdy."

"Well, with some things I like to go with what I know will work," Pete said, as Kazansky set the cuffs on the bed beside him, bracing himself above Pete.

Kazansky raised his eyebrow. "Only with some things?"

"You know," Pete swallowed. "The important things."

Kazansky 's lips curled into a grin once more. "Like fucking," he said, grinding his dick against Pete's still-clothed hips.

"Yeah, like that."

Kazansky paused and moved to grasp Pete's jaw with one hand. "You trust me?" He asked, his eyes dark and serious.

"I dunno, it depends on the context," Pete huffed out.

"Don't be a little shit, Mav. Do you trust me?" he repeated, enunciating each word. "You'll be my wingman, so you'll trust me to protect your ass when we're up in the air together, but how about down here on the ground, when it's just you and me in a bed together, not up in the air in metal capsules? Do you trust me to take care of you and give you what you need?"

Pete looked up at him and felt the lingering resistance bleed out of him. "Yes," he said, allowing himself to give in to what he wanted. "Yes, I do. I want this."

"So, here's how it's going to go," Kazansky said. He rolled beside Pete, and ran a hand over Pete's body from his shoulders to his hips, raising goosebumps in his wake. "I'm going to tie you down with these," he said, reaching for the cuffs. "And then I'm going to tease you until you can't fucking take it anymore. And then I'm going to fuck you until the only name on your lips is mine. Got it?"

Pete's mouth was suddenly dry again, and his heart was beating double time in his chest. Most of his encounters with men were quick, casual fucks. The sex was just about getting off, and he was fine with that. It was safe, easy. He didn't broadcast that he was into being tied up and dominated - that kind of thing could get you into even more trouble in the military than just being into men would. Yet, here was Iceman, tight-laced, by-the-books Iceman, who had somehow picked up on what he wanted, and decided to offer it to him on a silver platter.

"Yes," Pete breathed, arching upward to steal a kiss from Kazansky 's lips. "Yes. Please."

"Okay," Iceman said, pressing Pete against to the bed once again. He stroked his fingers along Pete's skin in gentle, soothing motions from sternum to hip. "Okay. You got a safeword you want to use?"

"Hard deck," Pete gasped.

"Of course it is," Kazansky said, smirking. "Don't move now," he said, releasing Pete's wrists. Pete allowed his hands to stay above his head as Kazansky moved to fasten them to the headboard. The smooth, golden skin of Kazansky's chest hovered a few inches away from Pete's mouth, the musky scent of Kazansky's skin filled his nostrils, and the urge to arch up and run his tongue along Kazansky's clavicle was strong. Pete was about to do just that when Kazansky buckled the second restraint and shifted back to rest on his heels.

Kazansky surveyed his body and muttered "Good," before burrowing his mouth at the juncture of Pete's shoulder and neck. Pete gasped as Kazansky worked the skin there, licking and sucking as his hand travelled down Pete's body to rest on the skin just above his belt buckle for a moment before sliding lower. Kazansky rubbed the heel of his hand against the hard shape of Pete's cock, which throbbed, causing Pete to twist in his bonds.

Kazansky sat up, and his hands went to Pete's belt, which he unbuckled with efficiency. "I've been wanting to see what you've been packing for a while now," Kazansky said. He yanked Pete's jeans and boxer shorts off his body, and tossed them on the floor before returning his attention to Pete's dick, which was hard and already wet at the tip.

"Nice," Kazansky said, with a grunt of satisfaction. A rush of arousal shot through Pete as Kazansky leaned down to run his tongue up Pete's dick from base to tip. "You are so fucking hot, Pete," Kazansky said, and Pete flushed with pleasure not only at the approval, but at Kazansky's use of his given name. It felt like he'd earned it. Kazansky shifted to kiss the juncture of Pete's abdomen and thigh and stroked Pete's cock with one hand with a maddeningly light touch. Pete grunted, rolling his hips in a bid for more stimulation.

"Someone's anxious," Kazansky chuckled, moving so that his grinning mouth hovered over the tip of Pete's cock.

Pete thrust his lips upward toward Kazansky. "Well, it'd be great if you'd suck my dick, since we're both here and all."

"Be nice, huh? Since when have you known me to be nice?" Kazansky's hands were on his hips, pushing him back down into the mattress again. "I told you, Pete," Kazansky said, with a toothy grin. "I'm going to give you what you need. All you have to do is ask for it. Nicely." His hand lazily stroked Pete's dick, and he raised an eyebrow. "That wasn't very nice."

"Fuck you, Kazansky," Pete huffed out.

"Mmm, you'd like that, wouldn't you?" Kazansky said, his hand still moving on Pete's cock, his touch light enough to tease, but not provide any real stimulation. "Maybe next time," he said, before wrapping his lips around the head of Pete's cock and sucking. Pete gasped, and arched off the bed toward him, attempting to thrust his dick further into Kazansky's mouth. Kazansky grasped his hips and shoved him back down against the bed.

Kazansky sunk his mouth around Pete's cock, enveloping Pete in soft, sucking head. Pete shifted in his grasp, his feet digging in the bedsheets as Kazansky's mouth slid further towards the base of Pete's dick with each bob of his head. Pete twisted his hands in his bonds and moaned, moving to look down his body to where Kazansky's lips stretched around Pete's cock. Kazansky's eyes locked on his own and he the fucker winked at Pete when he pulled his mouth back to the crown once more.

Kazansky turned out to be exceptionally skilled at blowjobs, like he was at everything else, but yet the attention Kazansky lavished upon him was far more tender than Pete had expected. An ache took up residence in Pete's chest alongside the pain that lingered there after Charlie's departure.

A low moan rumbled out of Pete's throat and he settled back against the pillow as Kazansky hollowed his cheeks and sucked harder. Pete closed his eyes, allowing his head to loll from side to side enjoying the vibration when Kazansky began moaned encouragement around him. Pleasure lit up Pete's spine like fire and his stomach tightened when the pace of Kazansky's mouth increased, urging him closer to release.

Pete gasped for breath as all sensation stopped. He thrust his hips, his throbbing cock aching for release, straining his arms against the restraints and crying out in frustration before opening his eyes to see Kazansky sitting on his heels, jacking his own cock with one hand.

"Mmm," Kazansky said, crawling over to press a wet and messy kiss to Pete's lips. Pete opened his mouth and Kazansky's tongue slipped inside, bearing the musky taste of Pete's cock. Pete twisted, bucking against the restraints, desperate to push Kazansky back down to his dick to finish what he started, but the asshole had bound him tight.

"Get me off," Pete demanded.

Kazansky grinned. "I said you had to ask nicely."

Pete rolled his eyes and then drew a deep breath, trying to center himself, to pull his thoughts away from his throbbing dick. So that was how Kazansky wanted to play it. He attempted a cocky smile that belied his need to come right-the-fuck now. "Please. Please get me off. There, happy?"

"Not yet. You have to be good first," Kazansky said, his voice husky, moving to straddle Pete's body, his cock inches from Pete's lips. "You think you can be good?" Pete's mouth, which had been so dry before, started watering. Kazansky shifted forward and cradled the back of Pete's head with his hand.

"Suck," Kazansky murmured. Pete looked up from Kazansky's dick, to see Kazansky looking at him with a half-grin and darkened eyes. Kazansky wanted Pete to be good, well, he'd show him good. He'd give Kazansky the best fucking blow job he'd ever had in his life, make the oh-so-constrained Iceman lose his precious control.

Pete raised his chin, held Kazansky's gaze and opened his mouth. He inhaled a short breath through his nose when one of Kazansky's hands grasped the back his head, tugging on his hair until Kazansky angled him to his liking. Kazansky's hips thrust forward, sliding his dick between Pete's lips and over his tongue. Unable to move much, he sealed his lips around Kazansky's cock and sucked as Kazansky thrust in and out of his mouth. He heard a sharp inhalation of breath above him. Kazansky's eyes had slipped closed and he had leaned forward to brace his other hand against the headboard of the bed for support. Kazansky blocked out the sight of everything else in the room as he rocked back and forth into Pete's mouth.

"Fuck, you're good at that," Kazansky said in a low voice. He thrust in and out of Pete's mouth at a steady, controlled pace, so Pete sucked harder, coaxing Kazansky further into his mouth with his tongue and the pressure of his lips. Kazansky moaned and his hips snapped forward, his self-control finally starting to break. Pete hummed his approval and moved his head, twisting his body in an attempt to maneuver more of Kazansky into his mouth. With a grunt, Kazansky let go of his control and began to fuck Pete's mouth without restraint. Within minutes, Pete felt Kazansky's body tightening above him, and moaned his encouragement when Kazansky's cock pulsed between Pete's lips and he came down Pete's throat.

Kazansky withdrew and his cock fell away from Pete's lips, and Pete was once again hyper aware of the throbbing of his own dick.

"That was good," Kazansky said, pressing a kiss to Pete's lips. "Maybe I'll get you off now. Maybe."

"You better, you motherfucker," Pete said.

"The mouth on you!" Kazansky said, then grinned and patted Pete's cheek. "It is a pretty great mouth, though, I have to admit. Now, don't be an asshole," he said, moving to kneel beside Pete's hips. He grabbed the bottle of lube and dispensed a glob of it into his hands. Pete let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding when Kazansky stroked his dick from root to tip with his slick hands in slow, deliberate movements. He closed his eyes and let his mind wander until his thoughts fell involuntarily upon Charlie, but then opened them again when he felt a sharp slap against his balls.

"Hey," he said, indignant.

Kazansky leaned over him, glowering. "Eyes open, focus on me, what we're doing here. No one else," Kazansky said, and Pete flushed at being caught thinking about his ex.

Kazansky returned a hand to Pete's dick, stroking it with a slow, controlled pace while his other hand went to Pete's chest to stroke at and tease his nipples. Pete groaned, arching into the touch, and felt a heady pulse of arousal as Kazansky pushed his body back down against the bed. His dick twitched in Kazansky's grasp, close to coming, and then the hand on his dick was gone.

"Not yet," Kazansky said, gentling over his heaving chest. "Control, Mav. It's all about control. Focus on breathing."

Pete screwed his eyes closed, took a deep breath and let it out, allowing some of the tension that thrummed through his body to exit with it. After several more breaths, Kazansky's hand was back on his dick again. Kazansky stroked him at that maddeningly slow pace until Pete was making short staccato moans with every breath, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. Once again, Kazansky brought him to the edge and released his dick, which pulsed and twitched in the air, pre-come dribbling from the tip to pool upon his belly.

"God," Pete groaned.

"I'm right here," Kazansky said, voice low and husky, moving to press a kiss to Pete's open lips.

"Please," Pete begged. He was desperate to come and unsure if could take another round of tease and release.

Kazansky laughed, low in his throat, and put more lube on his hand before grasping Pete's cock to jerk it with quick, rapid strokes. Pete roared, sure that Kazansky would let him come this time, feeling his balls tighten as they prepared to release. "Please, Kazansky, I can't-" he stuttered out, the words ending on a high pitched whimper when all sensation was replaced by the feeling of falling off a cliff because Kazansky had released him again.

He twisted and bucked up off the bed so hard that Kazansky had to shift backward to kneel on his heels a foot away from Pete. "Not yet, you brat," Kazansky said, looking at Pete with a calm expression on his face as he struggled to get his breathing under control.

Pete whimpered when Kazansky kneeled beside him stroke him again, expecting more torture. Kazansky's other hand went to Pete's balls, gently tugging them away from his body even as the motion of his hand on Pete's dick wound him up and pushed him closer to the edge. Pete whimpered as he felt the orgasm gather in his balls, unsure if he could take it if Kazansky denied him again. Kazansky's hand stayed on him, increasing the pace right until the edge of orgasm.

"God fucking dammit, Tom, please!" Pete yelled, and then intense, almost painful pleasure flooded Pete's awareness when his dick pulsed in Kazansky's grasp and he came, splattering come on his abdomen and chest.

Kazansky stroked him through it, returning to that deliberate, slow pace as the orgasm wracked his body, the sensation becoming near unbearable when Pete became over-sensitive. Pete cried out as his nervous system when into overload, twisting his body away. Kazansky's hand followed him, moving in unrelenting circles on the head of his dick for torturous moments, before releasing him.

Pete relaxed back on the bed, and over the sound of his own harsh breathing, Pete could hear the sound of hands moving over slick flesh. Pete opened his eyes and watched, enthralled, as Kazansky jerked himself off over Pete's bound body. His eyes locked on Pete's face and then closed when Kazansky began to come in warm, wet spurts onto Pete's skin.

Kazansky worked himself through the orgasm, squeezing the last of his release onto Pete's body, before letting go of control to collapse and melt into Pete's body. He pressed a kiss to Pete's lips before moving to unfasten Pete's restraints.

"That was good," Kazansky panted into his neck. "You were good."

"Yeah?" Pete laughed, a deep sated feeling of relaxation suffusing his senses.

"I think next time we're going to have to tied your legs down, though. Gave me a hard time at the end."

Pete barked out a laugh. "So, we'll do this again?"

"Count on it, asshole," Kazansky said, rolling away to grab a towel from beside the bed to clean the both of them up. "After that performance, we're definitely doing this again."

He finished wiping away the last of the come from Pete's skin, and looked up at him, his eyes sincere. "You feeling any better now?"

"Haven't felt this good in months," Pete said, shifting to the side so that Kazansky could collapse on the mattress beside him. Their breathing fell in sync in the darkened, warm room, and Pete hoped that Kazansky would take the teaching position that Viper was offering him. It was still shocking to him that Kazansky could read him in a way few others could, and that he made Pete feel at ease with his own desires and needs. And if Kazansky stuck around, the chances he'd get really great sex on a semi-regular basis skyrocketed.

He'd see if he could convince him tomorrow, he thought, as he drifted off to sleep

#

The next day, Pete went into the air with Kazansky as his wingman.

"Looking good out there, Maverick," came Viper's voice through the comm system, as Pete completed a double barrel roll. "It's great to see you to your old tricks."

"Copy that, Viper," Maverick replied, looking out his bird's canopy toward Kazansky's plane, flying beside him in tight formation. Earlier that day, Kazansky had accepted Viper's offer of a teaching position, and Pete smiled, knowing that Kazansky's bird would be a sight he'd be seeing much more often in the future.

"Iceman," Viper continued, "Whatever you did to get him back in the saddle, keep doing it."

Pete struggled to keep from bursting out laughing as Kazansky replied, "Yes sir, of course sir," and wobbled the wings of his plane at him.

"Hey Iceman," Pete said, and when Kazansky looked over at him, Kazansky was grinning. "Think you can keep up with me?"

"Of course I can, hotshot," Iceman replied, in a low voice a purr was a far cry from his usual cool tones.

Pete banked right, and flew off into the clouds, confident that Kazansky would be right by his side.


End file.
